Eye For An Eye
by lady-kyo
Summary: AU. The boys never get to Hogwart's... because they are immortal warriors in an epic battle against Morrigan and the dread Llyr. 1st part: RH's story. As a creature of the preternatural, can Ron win Hermione's heart and gain back his soul? ON HIATUS
1. Whence It All Began

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo **

**Chapter 1: Whence It All Began…**

Ron's pov

circa 5th century ME (modern era)

"Get back, Harold! We must retreat to the garrison, or you'll loose your leg!" I shouted at my best friend, the closest thing I had to a brother on the front. I pulled at him, erecting a barrier to fend off the arrows being shot at us by those damn Romans. They'd never rule here again, not if I had anything to say about it. "Harold, the shield won't hold forever. We must get back to the village, round up what survivors we can. If we don't, we'll never get the Romans out of here."

"Quiet yourself, Ronald. I'm just taking the time to set a welcome mat for our Roman friends," Harold said, and I could see in his eyes that the fatigue was threatening to take him from me, forever.

"Gin's waiting at the settlement, Harold. If I let you die here, she'll kill me. With the twins off fighting at the northern end of the isles, and the rest of us scattered to the wind, we're all she's got," I was willing to say anything to get my best friend to safety.

"Fine, it's set. We can go now," Harold brushed himself off and rose to his feet unsteadily. I gave him my arm for support, but he brushed me off. "I'm fine, just lost a lot of blood this time around. I'll limp for the rest of my days, but for a wizard in war, that's not too long, is it?" He laughed harshly, and I saw pain in his eyes.

"Stop that, you arse. Gin's waiting, and she'll heal you up right quick, once we're back at the settlement. She' got an in with Brigit, if you ask me. How else would she manage to heal so many so quickly?"

I walked close to Harold, ready to catch him if he fell, ready to carry him back to the settlement if I had to. We only mentioned the gods and goddesses rarely; as wizards, borrowing their power without really asking, we did our best not to draw their attention to ourselves unduly.

But why, after all this time, when it seemed that they had forgotten, are the Romans back in full force, after strategically useless lands? They have their gods, we have ours. They have wizards, we have wizards. What are they after?

Harold's pain got worse after our discussion. I put him under a mild sleeping charm and levitated the both of us back to the settlement, just barely skimming the ground. About a mile away from the settlement, I put Harold back on the ground, set myself down next to him, and released him from the sleeping charm. His leg wound was still oozing, but I knew that he'd wan to walk back to Gin on his own to feet, limp or not.

"Oi! Get up, ya slug! Gin'll have fits if you aren't up when she sees you," I laughed, helping Harold shake himself awake.

Harold stood up and laughed. "I'm just planning on Gin having me, as soon as she heals my leg!"

We joked and pushed at one another as we made the last leg of the trip to the settlement, put far back from the front to protect those stationed there. A few wizards, those too young or too old for the war, were there to shield the settlement and give word when visitors or others were near.

Strangely, no one showed up to escort us inside. We were withing a mile of the entrance, and someone should have at least seen who we were.

"Something's not right," I said, looking at Harold, whose eyes were glazing over. I knew from experience that he was trying to communicate with Gin, to see through her eyes.

Harold's eyes became his own again. "Run! The settlement!"

Run we did. We were too late. The place was razed when we got there. The smoke rose and filled the sky. It had been no ordinary fire; we hadn't been gone long enough for the wood to dry out and burn down to the ground the way it had.

"A dark magic did this," I choked out. I was numb, and I didn't feel like searching the wreckage for my beloved sister. Gin was the only girl born into our family. I had five older brothers, none of which did I know where he was. William and Charles were summoned by the aging warlord to fight the first surge of Romans. Percius, always a scavenger, had defected to the Romans as soon as it looked like they'd win; now that the Romans were losing, I hoped that he was dead. Our parents died in a siege not long after Gin's birth; Frederick and Georgeas raised me, and once they left, I raised Gin. And now they were all gone.

"Gin is held by the goddess Brigit herself! She must be alive!" Harold was crazed at the thought of losing Gin. Harold had lost his parents before he was even two winters old. He'd been found by Romans, tortured until a group of renegade Druids had rescued him. They taught him all the oldest magicks, but before long they tortured him as well. He escaped the Druids and had found Gin and me. Frederick and Georgeas had entrusted the three of us to care for one another before they had left for the battlefront; it was only natural for Harold and Gin to grow to care for one another.

As Harold did not trust any Druid, the two were not married. They were married in my eyes, in their eyes, and the eyes of the tribe we protected. That was all that mattered.

Finally, Harold's madness roused my own. I began to dig frantically through the ruins along with him.

"Gin! Gin, girl, say something so we may find you!" I screamed. The pain was too much; I couldn't lose my sister. And without her, I'd lose Harold. His heart would give out, or his leg would take him.

"Gin! Please! Where are you! I'll go mad without you!" Harold shouted over and over again.

We sifted through all the rubble, but we found no sign of her.

"Harold, there's no sign of her," I said quietly, not wanting to break him.

"I will have my vengeance on those Roman pigs! They are filth, and my magick will cleanse our world of them, and all those who come after, burning and pillaging and raping!" Harold screamed, and I was momentarily scared of him. "Just wait, Gin, I'll kill them, and then I'll join you."

"Harold, we're just not powerful enough. I would side with Morrígan herself to fight them all off, but we're just not enough, not without Gin," I said, my breath catching in my throat. Harold's eyes were green rimmed in the red fire of revenge.

I felt more than heard something behind us. Harold's eyes cleared for a moment. I turned to see what had changed him, but I had to close my eyes at the brilliance before me.

"What if you could fight Rome and others like her without siding with the dark one?"


	2. The Lonely Girl

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo **

**Chapter 2: The Lonely Girl**

Hermione's pov (the present)

I had the worst first year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ever experienced. I was only eleven years old, and I had no friends. I was born into a muggle, or rather, non-magical family. I had no idea I could do magic, like that with a wand, until a great phoenix landed on our table one morning during at breakfast during a school holiday.

It is my great pleasure to invite Miss Hermione Jane Granger to join our incoming class at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this September. Please arrive sharply at 8:00 am on the date specified at Platform 9 ¾. If you have any questions, please write them down and return them with your reply. Your questions will be answered promptly to ensure Hermione's smooth transition into the wizarding world.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwart's

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Order of Merlin, 1st class

ps—the date will be specified in the reply

to your reply

But I already had strength and power beyond reckoning.

Ever since I was a young child, no more than a babe, really, I could move things with my mind. At first, it was a favorite toy or bauble off of a high shelf. Then it was the cookie jar and a glass to pour my milk into. Lately, or rather, close to my admittance to Hogwart's, I could open heavy doors (that were already unlocked, much to my chagrin), carry my schoolbag and books, and maneuver other large or bulky things without aid of my body.

My parents had always sensed something 'fey' about me; that was how they put it. My eyes were a hazel brown that would flash green when I used my power or became emotional. I did my best to be a dutiful daughter to them, studying and doing extra things to stand out. Physically, I could not compete with other children my age, so I concentrated on my mind and my powers.

My parents didn't even debate or sleep on the decision to send me away to Hogwart's. It wasn't that they didn't love me, or that they wanted to get rid of me, but it was becoming difficult for me to hold myself in check. They wanted me to learn to use my gifts, and to use them for what was good and right. My mother penned a quick reply, and a few weeks later, I was attempting to get into Platform 9 ¾.

I found platform 9, and platforms 8 and 7, but 9 ¾ escaped me. I sighed and focused on my trunks and the cat that my parents had gotten me when we ventured into the wizards' marketplace. As I was about to give up, levitate my things back to my parents' home and assume that the whole thing had been a hoax, a young girl came up behind me.

"Are you looking for Platform 9 ¾ and the Hogwart's Express?" the girl said. She had fey eyes, not unlike mine. Hers flashed blue and brown, though, and I felt a calming, almost healing energy radiating from her.

"Are you lost, little one?" I asked, surprised that at such an age she was so impressive.

"The name's Gin, and no, I'm not lost. I've been here before. You need to run through that pillar there to get to Platform 9 ¾. Take a breath and push on through," and with that she was gone.

I wanted to believe her, and her effect on me was evident. I gathered my courage, looked around to see what muggles could be watching, and I took the plunge!

I made it through, and I saw a horde of wizarding folk. All around me, there were pointed hats and wands and brooms and all the other things that go along with wizardry. I felt home, but my chest felt heavy, as if I carried the weight of another's life on it. I brushed it off and headed for the train, the only child without parents to escort her onto the train.

Not quite the only child like that, I realized as I found a compartment that I had thought to be empty. I poked my head in after I shoved my trunks and the cat, Crookshanks, into the compartment, and I saw a girl with those same fey eyes.

Those eyes, such a bright green I thought they were emeralds set into her face, glared at me angrily. "Who d'you think you are? Hm? Can't you see I want to be alone?"

Her red hair curled the same way my chestnut locks did. "Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you. Are you muggle-born as well?"

"You're a mudblood! My parents'll love that, they will. Ah, who cares, they don't give a damn about me anyway. The name's Persiopeia Cornelia Black. Don't call me Persy."

"I surely won't. I'm sorry about your parents. Mine couldn't come through, because they're muggles. I bet you have lots of friends already, hmm?"

"Just you, it would appear. Take a nap; we'll reach the school in a few short hours, and the opening feast is long and tiresome."

I was nodding off when a knock sounded on the door. A blonde head popped in. "May I join you ladies? I fear that I've lost the friends I came here with," a girl with a dreamy look on her face said as she entered. Her eyes were a creamy brown, almost milky. I breathed an almost audible sigh of relief when I saw that her eyes didn't have the fey element that mine and Persiopeia's had.

"I'm Hermione and this ravishing redhead is Pia, short for Persiopeia Cornelia Black," I said as I settled back into my seat. Pia glared at me, but I could tell that I'd managed to break the ice completely.

"I'm Luna Lovegood. My father works for the Quibbler, one of the most on the ball wizarding magazines there is. Does anyone feel like this room has grown quite stuffy? I feel as if a person is sitting on my chest," Luna said hazily as her eyes seemed to focus first at the air above my chest, then at that above Pia's.

"Yeah, now that you mention it," Pia said thoughtfully. "'Mione?"

Great, now I had a nickname. "Yeah. It feels like something, or someone, rather, is missing. Do you think perhaps some students were left behind?"

"No, that wouldn't happen here. Some of the staff are on site at the platform to keep that from happening," Pia said quickly.

"Maybe sight is the problem," Luna said quietly. Pia and I looked at Luna, who turned to lean against the wall to nap, then we shared a look.

"I think we all need some rest."

Fate was rather cruel when we arrived at Hogwart's. It turned out that Hogwart's, as a proper boarding school, was divided into dormitories or Houses, as they were called here. The Houses of Hogwart's were Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Gryffindor hates Slytherin, Hufflepuff tends to side with Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw typically casts their lot with Slytherin.

I was put into Gryffindor, Luna ended up in Ravenclaw, and Pia, who would turn out to be one of my best friends, got drawn into Slytherin.

Logic would dictate that Pia and Luna would get closer, and that I would become rivals with Luna and enemies with Pia. No such thing happened; Pia and I became even closer, while Luna stayed on the fringes, more concerned with the weights we carried unseen than with girls' nights and guys.

One night, close to the end of the school term, having snuck Pia into my dorm for a girls' night along with my roommates, we were talking about boys. I remember that it was a rather unusual night, for Luna had graced us with her presence.

"So, who's the dreamiest guy on campus?" Lavender Brown said. She was a roommate of mine, and we rarely saw eye to eye. Trust Lavender to bring boys up, when we needed to study for finals and the NEWTs that we would be taking as fifth-years.

Pavarti, Lavender's best friend and accomplice, started us off. "I think that Flint, the Slytherin quidditch captain, isn't too bad."

"How about Crabbe and Goyle?" Lavender said. "One for Hermione, one for Pia!"

"It seems like those two are always looking for someone to tell them what to do, though," Luna said off-handedly. To tell the truth, we all thought she had gone to sleep.

Pia was about to defend her housemates when a new voice chimed in. "I think Luna's right. They run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Pansy Parkinson can usually calm them down, but they are missing something. Those two just aren't quite right."

We all turned to the now-open doorway. In it stood Brenna Ianevski and Andrea MacGarry, the former rivals, now best friends who had set a record for most House points lost in the first month of term. They had lost more points in the first month of their first term at Hogwart's than any before them. Brenna was tall and curvy, even at only thirteen years old; she had red hair to match Pia's and blue eyes that burned all the time, with a fire of some sort or another. Andrea was not quite as tall as Brenna, but just as curvy; she had platinum blonde hair and green eyes that flashed fey just as Pia's did. The girls cleaved to one another, often referred to as the sisters separated by House, as they were almost inseparable. On top of that, they were both accomplished animagus, without even being of wizarding age. Those who didn't envy them feared them. What you did to one, you did to the other, so every action had twice the consequences.

Andrea shot Brenna a look before she opened her own mouth. "I must concur. Pia, you must be careful; you don't want to break our record, with you sneaking over here all the time."

Pia laughed. "So, you're not really here, then?"

"Of course I'm here, my dear. Where else would I be but with my sister?"

"On that note, I think Pavarti and I'll skiv off to the common room. We heard that the house-elves leave candies for the first-years," Lavender said, much to everyone's relief. She was nice enough, but really too much when paired with Pavarti.

Andrea shot a look at Brenna as they entered and charmed the door locked. "I wonder where she heard that from?"

Brenna smiled and sat, motioning for Andrea to do the same. "Hm, probably the same person who left sleep-charmed candies for those two to find. Hermione, don't worry. For next year, I've requested to room with you. You're no Andi, but I'll deal."

"Gee, thanks. Who'll be our third?" I said with a bemused expression.

"Probably some first year. But not Lavender, I promise you that my dear," Brenna said as she reached into her robe and produced a wealth of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

"Oh, Bren, you remembered!" Andrea said, mock longing in her voice.

"Do you two feel that heaviness?" Luna broke in, her voice uncharacteristically strong. I looked at Pia, whose eyes were shut. Brenna and Andrea were the same way. I followed suit, and I thought I saw someone looking into my eyes through the lids.

"I think it's time for sleep. No more of this tonight. And speak to no one of this. This is old, powerful magic. Let it be, don't tap into it, promise me that, girls," Brenna said in an authoritative voice.

"Andrea," Pia began, but Andrea cut her off.

"No. This is strange, and Brenna and I will begin to investigate, but not you three, not now. Sleep, and in the morning, remember to keep it to yourselves," Andrea said in a voice that brooked no arguments.

After that night, we didn't speak of the heaviness, not even amongst ourselves. We were all afraid. I plunged into my private studies, ancient books on the lost art of telekinesis. No one was supposed to be able to perform it anymore, but I could. It seemed from the histories that the ability had died out around the 5th century ME, with the beating back of the Romans from what would become the British Isles. It seems that wizards were responsible for the lives that were saved and the eventual throwing out of the Roman troops. The last recorded wizard to use telekinesis was a Celt whose name was scrubbed out from the parchment that held the story.

Our end of year exams came and went. During my studies for the exams, I often found myself turning to explain an answer and found that no one had asked me anything. I took to spending all my time with Brenna and Andrea or Luna and Pia. None of us seemed to trust ourselves anymore. My grades were top of the class, but I kept checking the middle and bottom portions of the grade listings, like I was checking for someone else. No one; but I felt as if something or someone was missing.

As I traveled back to my parents and the comfort of home, I managed to push all thoughts of the heaviness and my searches for non-existent people to the back of my mind. I thought that I was rid of that strangeness, but my telekinesis grew stronger. Things were otherwise okay, until I boarded the Hogwart's for my second year.

That' when I saw her.


	3. What Happens in Second Year

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo **

**ps: I know that the powers are derived from those on the TV show "Charmed". I love that show, and I'm sad that it is off the air. Here's hoping for a movie.**

**Chapter 3: What Happens in 2nd-year…**

Hermione's pov

When I arrived at Platform 9¾ to take the Hogwart's for my second year, I searched high and low for the girl that had helped me last term. I even arrived there early to be able to look for her. No dice. Sighing, I gave up and got on the plain. It was still early, and therefore, Pia had not shown. Luna was there, but she was murmuring about the heaviness again, trolling the platform in search of where the heaviness was most evident.

I picked out a compartment not too close to the front, but not at the back, either. I settled my trunks into the shelving provided and plopped down into the plush cushions of the seats with Crookshanks on my lap. I was stroking his bushy back and tail when I felt his hackles go up.

"Crookshanks, calm yourself. I'm here, and you know almost everyone else who'll be getting on the train. You like Pia, remember?" I crooned, trying to get him to curl up and sleep, which would provide me with ample time to catch up with my friends and compare notes on the strange heaviness.

I stopped trying to calm Crookshanks when a red head popped into the compartment.

"Oh, Pia, am I glad you're here. Luna's outside, lamenting the heaviness. I'm afraid she's going to let the cat out of the bag, as it were," I said, the relief audible in my voice.

"That's quite lovely, but who's Pia?" The red head turned to face me, and it wasn't Pia that was looking back at me. "And what's the heaviness you're referring to?"

"Oh, my, umm, it's nothing. Wait! You're the girl from the platform last year, aren't you!" I cried as I thought she was going to leave. "You're Gin, aren't you?"

"Um, actually, the name's Ginny. Ginny Weasley. And no, I'm afraid that this is the first time I've ever been here before. I'm the only daughter, I mean, the only child of Arthur and Molly Weasley. I have never laid eyes on you before," Ginny said, and her eyes seemed charged with an inner light. I felt calm as she told me this, and I felt the heaviness again, but it was a good feeling.

"'Mione, Luna's going on about the heaviness again, and everyone on the platform's going to Oh. Who are you?" Pia raced into the compartment.

Pia received the same answer I did, and reacted the same way. I don't know how I was able to connect the two incidents, but I managed it. Pia sat next to me, and we struck up a conversation with Ginny. In the back of my mind, I waited for Luna, wanting to see how she would react to the newcomer.

As I waited, I listened to the conversation between Pia and Ginny. According to her, Ginny was the only child of two full-blooded wizarding parents, she was an entering first year, and she hoped that she would get into my House and room, because she could already tell we'd be close friends. Pia scowled at her for that, but went on to say that she knew no one would ever eclipse her in my heart. We all laughed, and the door opened for what would be the last occupant for that trip.

Luna walked in, and I could see that Ginny was about to give her the same treatment Pia and I had gotten, but as Ginny opened her mouth, Luna cut her off.

"You're held by someone. You feel the heaviness, but it doesn't touch you the same way. I wonder why. And I wonder why you were drawn to us?" Luna said, and her brown eyes were glazed over in their milky haze. Ginny shut her mouth and turned instead to Pia and me.

'Well, well, well, it does seem as if some things are meant to be."

And that's how I met the one who would become like a sister to me. Ginny, who ended up in Gryffindor, roomed with Brenna and me for the remainder of our years at Hogwart's. She was always ready to visit my family, but not so when I wanted to visit her and her own. I only visited a few times before she was no longer going to her family home doing the summer breaks; instead, she was opting to stay at the school over breaks, to study and try to graduate early. During my sixth year, Brenna graduated along with Andrea. They became accomplished Aurors, but they used their contacts and expertise to investigate the heaviness and the depression that we all began to feel around my third year.

I thought that our depression had an obvious cause: Luna had been so overwhelmed with the heaviness that she had gone a little off; she was admitted to St. Mungo's psychiatric ward. Halfway through that term, she disappeared from there. We haven't heard from her, or of her, ever since. I think we all missed our most mystical sister in the fey. Not long after her disappearance, my other friends began to exhibit gifts not unlike my own.

Pia could stop time for short bursts, and her temper often made her make things blow up. Brenna and Andrea, already animagus, showed even more talent along that line: they became metamorphagus; it had never happened in history, at least not since the 5th century, not unlike my own talents. I learned from Pia that Pansy Parkinson could call things to her; it was as if she could Apparate things to and fro. Whenever I find myself thinking about Luna, I wonder what her talent would have been. Ginny tried not to show her talents around us, but I caught her using hers one time after a Quidditch match.

Ginny had made the House Quidditch team on her first try-out. She was a Chaser, perhaps the most physically demanding position, save for Seeker. It was during a match against Ravenclaw; the Ravenclaw Seeker, Cho Chang, a girl none of us particularly liked, was racing to catch the Golden Snitch when she overshot her mark and flew into a goalpost. She fell dead from the sky. I could almost feel her soul leaving this earth when Ginny caught her in mid-air and gently carried her down to the field. I darted out of my seat. Pia froze the field and stands in order to buy us time to fix things: it just wasn't her time to go. I met Pansy and Pia on my way down to the field where Ginny was holding Cho Chang. We walked onto the pitch together, but Ginny was already working on her. We stopped and held our breath. Ginny was speaking, whispering, really, and we had to strain to hear what she was saying.

"Cho, darling, daring girl, it's not your time. I can't let you take him away from me, but I can not wrest your life from you now. Let her flow into you, heal you, and never remember how this happened. But always remember this: if you try to take him, I'll rip your life away as easily as I gave it back to you," Ginny whispered, breathing softly into Cho Chang's open mouth. Abruptly, Cho woke up, spluttering. "S'alright, Cho. You just fell. Time to get back to the match. Someone's got to catch the Snitch." Ginny looked directly into Pia's eyes. "Isn't that right, Pia? Time for the match to resume?"

Pia couldn't resist the fey light in Ginny's eyes. "Right. Time to resume the game." Pia got a distant look in her eyes, and time played on. A strange light that had suffused Ginny faded away. The game continued, and Gryffindor managed to win, even though Cho Chang did manage to catch the Snitch.

I think that I loved Ginny at that moment. We had beheld her using her power, the power to heal and catch life before it escaped. I know that I feared her power, but at that time, I knew that she would be a sister to me for the rest of our lives.

The rest of our years at Hogwart's were much like that. Professors mostly ignored our talents, never offering aid but giving it when we asked. After a while, we gave up and relied on our won research and experiments.

During a particularly frustrating research session in which Pia and I were reading ancient Celtic and Druid texts, trying to figure out how to help Pansy make the best of her talents, I threw up my hands and screamed. Madam Pince glared at me and I sat back in my chair, glaring at Pia.

"It's times like these that make me willing to do anything to fix these nutter powers we were given. I'd side with Morrígan herself if she could help us out here!" I whispered loudly.

"Never offer to side with her. That's what she wants. That's what they all want," Ginny had appeared out of nowhere. She was deathly pale, but then, she always was. It was as if she never went out into the sun, ever. She said her piece softly and left us.

"I think that she just wants us to know that she'll miss us. Supposedly, this type of separation anxiety exhibits as anger," Pia said, breaking our silence.

"You sound like a muggle psychology textbook," I laughed, trying to ease the tension.

"Thanks to you. At least I'm not quoting 'Hogwart's: A History', like some muggle-borns I could mention."

Our exams were awful. Even I was worried about my marks. But I got high enough marks to ensure my entrance to the Auror program through the Ministry of Magic. I wanted to continue my research, and the travel that was entailed in being and becoming an Auror would be quite helpful. Pia and Pansy joined me. I was not surprised at Pia's choice, as she was adamant about not returning to her parents' home and rules. Pansy was surprising, though; she refused her parents' attempts at matches with high-born, rich boys and men from other old wizarding families. The Auror program offered her hope to find her own way.

Pia was dispatched to Italy not long after our initial training and tours of duty. Pansy was sent to Romania, but they shared contacts, thanks to our sisterhood: Brenna and Andrea. I was the last to be posted. None of the others had any luck when I received my posting: not far from Dublin, Ireland, in a village called Wicklow in county Wicklow. From there, I kept watch over counties Kildare, Carlow, Wexford, Meath, and the surrounds of Dublin. I was not to interfere with the affairs of the wizards in Dublin, however.

I was doing research on our powers in the old Anglo-Saxon stronghold in Wicklow when I met him.


	4. Doesn't Necessarily Stay or End in 2ndYr

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo **

**Chapter 4: … doesn't necessarily stay or end in 2nd-year**

Ron's pov

I heard someone in the upper levels of the castle I called home for the moment. I sent my thought out and found that it was still mid-day. That was strange. Never have I wakened in the middle of the day, not since I made my bargain with her. The warrior maker.

Scáthach. The Amazon-descended warrior woman.

When I made the mistake of claiming I'd side with Morrígan to get Gin back, I won the favor and attention of Scáthach and her master, Dôn. They would train me, help me gain my revenge, and all for a small price: I would help them beat back the children of Morrígan. Brigit seemed to have turned her back on the people, and Dôn was the last one to stand against her. Llyr, the most basic enemy of Dôn, had taken Morrígan's side. But when we made the agreement, no one told us what it would entail, or how long our near-enslavement would last.

The years piled on, and I grew to dread the light of day. More time passed, and the sunlight became my enemy: I burned easily, and my eyes watered even in the end of twilight. I was quickly becoming the monster who tread only the night. Harold had stayed with me, but as time passed and he could not even spend the dawn in the sun's gentlest embrace, the time he and Gin had cherished in their short time together, he grew distant and he left, leaving me to feel out the new abilities and the search for a way to undo the bond between us and the Dôn. I gave up on finding any companionship with anyone; Harold was gone, and I didn't ever hear about the Dôn making any others like us. It was a lonely existence.

Until night fell the day she came to my castle.

Hermione's pov

The castle was out of the way, and a veritable treasure trove of ancient magical knowledge. It didn't seem like it at first, but I would find answers there. Just not how I'd imagined them.

It was one of my precious days off that I found the castle. It was an old stronghold, once held by the Anglo-Saxons. According to muggle history, that is; I did research, using my clearance as an Auror, and found that it had been used even back in the 5th century, when we were all trying to force the Romans back. The castle was beautiful, old and somewhat downtrodden, but its beauty was undeniable in the way that knowledge is beautiful. It never looks like much on the outside, but it's what you learn that makes you see it as perfect.

I arrived there early, not even seven o'clock on a sunny September day. My birthday was approaching, but I knew once I saw Wicklow Castle that I would not be leaving this place, not even for my birthday. Besides, I was already of wizarding age, having turned seventeen the beginning of my seventh year at Hogwart's. I would be a fool to leave a find like this behind, anyways.

I worked throughout the day, eating a sandwich I had the foresight to pack before I went exploring. I never got tired, which should have told me something, but I was devouring the old books and journals I found in the ancient study. Funnily enough, it seemed as if someone had resided there until recently, perhaps the 19th century. It was foolish to believe that; according to local history, the castle had been uninhabited and supposedly haunted since the last lord, a Ronald who did not come from muggle royalty had lived there. One day, he was watching over his servants, keeping a castle in hold for a lady the locals never knew, the next he had disappeared. His servants had kept working, hoping for his return until a creature of the night scared them away. Ever since then, no one had ventured into the castle, not event to loot it. It was said that the specters of the warriors who died defending the castle roamed it day and night, and that they would kill any who defied the warnings and intruded on their after-life.

The more I read, the more it felt as if someone was guiding my hands and my mind, putting the right books and writings in front of me, or directing me to a hidden room or document. It was hours before the words began to blur on the pages, but blur they did. Before I knew it, I had dozed off.

It was well after dark when a handsome red-headed man woke me. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with shaggy red hair, lean muscle cutting his frame, perfect lips, and the most beautiful, almost hope-filled eyes I had ever seen. I scrabbled back in my chair and began apologizing fiercely.

"I'm so sorry! I was told that no one lived here. I didn't steal anything, I just read things and I'm a witch and you're beautiful and I'm Hermione and my chest feels heavier than ever before," the words came out in a rush, and it wasn't until he chuckled and spoke in a hasty voice that I realized all I had said. If he were a muggle, I'd have to cast a memory charm on him and hope for the best. I told him he was beautiful, my name, and I mentioned the heaviness for the first time since Luna disappeared.

Warm, strong hands pulled me to my feet, right out of my chair. "A pleasure to meet you, 'Mione. Thank you for the compliment, I don't believe I've been called beautiful before. I'm a wizard, so no need to worry. Why is your chest heavier than ever? You're beautiful, too. The name's Rona Ron," he finished, his voice confirming the hope I saw in his eyes, and I was relieved to hear that he was flustered, too. He thought I was beautiful?

"Sorry to invade your castle, sir. And no need to worry about the heaviness. It's just one of my 'quirks'. You're a wizard?"

"Yes, I am," he said, and he had a thick brogue that began to melt my insides. He looked from my eyes to the candles that hadn't noticed before. He concentrated, and with a look of consternation, he lit them just by looking at them. My mouth was hanging open, which he must have taken for appreciation, for he then looked at my bag on the floor and lifted it off of the floor with his thought.

"You're like Pia and me! And you look just like Gin," I said with relief. Perhaps he was one of Ginny's cousins.

"You know Gin!" Ron sounded so happy, I thought he'd dance.

"Yeah, she just turned seventeen, and she's taking the Aurors' exams early. I'm so proud of her. But, as you would already know, Ginny's an only child, and her parents are gone, lost in a battle when she was only fourteen winters," I stopped and put a hand to my mouth. "Excuse, me, what an archaic turn of phrase. She was just fourteen years old when they were killed. Are you her cousin?"

Ron's face fell, and I felt my heart speed up. I wanted to make him smile again, make him smile like he did before, but just for me. He shot me a wicked look and slipped a smile back onto his face.

"Must be a different Gin, then," Ron said quietly. I nodded and began gathering my things. He stopped me simply by lifting my bag out of my reach. "Leaving so soon?"

Ron's pov

She was perfect. And that means that she must be the salvation that Scáthach had promised me. I had to find Harold, let him know that salvation did exist, try to get him to live again, to find his own girl.

But for now, I had Hermione all to myself. Time to get know one another.


	5. Whence Salvation Comes

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 5: Whence Salvation Comes**

Ron's pov

It seems to me that it is high time to tell of the wretched trickery played on me and Harold. Of the barter and the trick that led to my ridiculously long life and pseudo-slavery.

Harold and I had been working for perhaps two centuries, eradicating the roving bands of the Tuatha dé Danann, the followers of Danu and Llyr, the ones who would aid Morrígan in her conquests over man and god, should she not be stopped. We were on our way back to Scáthach and Dôn for supplies and rest. Back in those times, we still took our nourishment from the foods we enjoyed as mortals, and we still walked in the light of day.

When we arrived back at the Isle of Skye, the stronghold of Scáthach and the earthly home of the Dôn, it was as if history were repeating itself. We felt no brush of a scan to identify who we were. We had never met our other brothers and sisters in arms, but we knew that they existed. No one came out to escort us back to the castle, and we missed the comforting presence of Uathach, the beloved and only daughter of Scáthach, our own beloved teacher. She was not our master, only the Dôn could claim that title, but she figured just as much into our way of thinking as he did.

We stalked closer and closer to the castle, and the scene was the same: the place was razed. The only casualty: Uathach. Morrígan herself had stormed our stronghold, and she killed Uathach in cold blood as Scáthach was restrained and made to watch.

Morrígan had not come as the ultimate death-bringer. Instead, she had come as the killer of hope; she had come to steal the souls we had all bartered one way or another in order to gain our revenge our protect those we loved.

But Morrígan had failed. She had wanted to destroy those souls and therefore our free will and willingness to subject ourselves to Scáthach and the Dôn's rule, and she failed, thanks to Scáthach. They fought in the souls' room, a room none of us knew about. Morrígan had the souls in her grip when Scáthach had landed a lucky strike. The vessel of souls flew from the dread-goddess's grip, shattering against the high ceiling. The souls escaped, happy to be free of their prison. Like she had never been there, Morrígan disappeared.

It wasn't until we were sitting in a makeshift temple while the others rebuilt the stronghold that Scáthach informed Harold and me of the danger and hope of the situation.

"Ah, me boyos, listen well tae me," she began, leaning back to rest her nearly-ruined body. It wouldn't be for another century or so before the Dôn would restore her to herself. "I doona wan' tae tell ye dis, bu' Ah feel Ah moost. Yer souls hae escaped, 'n Ah ken that they'll roam until they fin' a home in the bodies o' the girls who will complete ye. Ye'll know the girls by the abilities that they share wit' ye, 'n the heaviness they'll feel, especially when yer near tae them. but tae caution with them, for if they shall fall 'n ye not be there tae save them, ye'll have lost all over again, 'n ye'll roam forever as wraiths."

I heard a scream as I had never heard before; I thought it was Harold, but when I looked around after it ended, I realize from how Scáthach and Harold looked at me, it came from my own mouth. I was scared and frustrated, and I felt betrayed. Uathach had been like a sister to me, helping fill the void Gin had left. I had hunted and fought and trained all those years, and the damn warrior goddess had lost my soul!

"How could you have let this happen, Scáthach? Where was the Dôn why didn't he stop Morrígan?" I shouted; I couldn't control the volume of my voice, and Scáthach winced at the sound. Harold looked as if death walked beside him, skin gray and eyes haunted. I was livid and I wanted answers.

"Ah'm soory, Ronald. But ya know that the Dôn can not alway' be here, and me own pow'r is no' alway' enough. For the love o' the Dôn, me own daughter wa' killed!" Scáthach screamed, raising herself up from the reclining position Harold had lain her in. "That is it! Get out of here! Go fin' yer lass and make yer own way. I never should have saved you, you ungrateful git!"

I had stormed out, completely intent on never going back. Harold had stayed with Scáthach a while longer, while I packed my meager belongings.

"Ronald, you had no right to do that to her. She lost her only daughter, along with the only things that bind us to her. You don't seem to remember the terms of our agreement: we handed our souls over to her to be held in trust in exchange for an extension of our natural abilities. In the time we've spent training and hunting, trying to erase Morrígan and Llyr's taint, Scáthach has been our beloved teacher and has acted as a mother to us and the others that she trains," Harold said in a quiet voice.

"Oh, and when exactly have we ever seen the others that she supposedly trains?" I was angry, and Harold would bear the brunt of it if he wanted to get into this with me. I wanted to leave, but I wanted to know how to fix things more than that.

"Ronald, we're kept separate from the others because we each have different abilities, and we come from different eras and cultures. You and I are together because we come from the same place and culture, and we knew each other before Scáthach took us. You never guessed this before? There are others under Scáthach who have been our enemies," Harold said, his eyes growing hard and cold.

"Fine. You want me to believe that not only has Scáthach got other men under her, but that they are men who've also been our enemies?" I scoffed.

"Come with me, before you leave," Harold grabbed my arm and pulled me from my room, through a doorway I had never seen before, down a long, dark hallway decorated with somewhat familiar items. We finally stopped outside a door painted crimson, covered with runes I definitely didn't recognize. Harold pushed the door open, and I hissed at what I saw.

"Romans? She saved Romans!" I yelled, crashing into the room, ripping down all the things on the walls, slamming the lewd statues to the floor.

"Not many. Just the one, as a matter of fact. I don't know his name, but I do know that the one saved is a wizard like you and me. I don't know where he is right now, probably out on a mission, but he should be on his way back; Scáthach has alerted all the others. The stronghold will be full, crowded even, when they all get back. And you're just going to leave. How are we going to find Gin if we just leave?" Harold was getting louder, and I stopped my rampage to look at him.

"No one's making you leave, Harold. You're more than welcome to stay here and use the resources available to you," I said, looking Harold directly in his eyes.

"Gin would kill me if I let you go off on your own. Besides, I'm all you've got at this point. If you go, we both go. We'll find Gin and get our souls back. Maybe then we'll be able to live and age and get out of the agreement. And how exactly would you survive without me?" Harold smiled.

"Well, I'm set. Get your things it's time to set things right."

And that's how we left the stronghold. We never did meet the others who served Scáthach and the Dôn. We left the Isle of Skye and headed for the Irish Highlands. Harold and I made camp wherever we wanted, away from the changing cultures of the people. Harold and I didn't age, but humanity was evolving and growing, learning. The villages we had known were falling down, and castles were springing up in their wake.

We took refuge in a village that had seen its end long ago, thanks to a local tribal war. We used it as a base, hunting close at first, then roving farther in an effort to sustain ourselves. We gathered berries and other edible plant matter along with what we hunted. We took very little with us when we left the stronghold, but our abilities filled in what we needed to get by.

At least, until we could no longer survive on what we had enjoyed as men.


	6. Getting to Know You

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 6: Getting to Know You…**

Hermione' pov

looking backI should have been worried when the lord of the castle took my bag from me. Any other time I would have been worried, and looking back on that day, I worry over the fact that it didn't worry me at that time. Does that make any sense?

Bother that. I have more to tell.

end looking back

Ronald, the lord of the castle, at least that's how I thought of him, took my bag from me and set it on a shelf high behind him. I looked from my bag to his blue eyes, and I felt an eerie calm settle over my body. The heaviness that had been growing steadily in my chest began to lift, and color seemed to be creeping back into his face.

"Hermione, why don't you tell me about yourself?" Ron asked, looking deep into my eyes. His voice was soft, yet strong. I felt compelled to answer him, although I rarely talked about myself, even to Pia and the other girls. What they knew, what most people knew, were mundane things about me. Yes, Pia and Brenna and Andrea and even Pansy knew a little more, but most of that was what they surmised from the experiences and abilities we shared. The most painful thing was sharing my abilities, how my parents had been grateful for a boarding school that catered to 'special' cases, like me.

"Hm, what would you like to know, Ron?" I asked carefully. True, I wanted to tell him everything, but my sense of self-preservation was finally kicking in: he would only know what he was wise and wily enough to get out of me.

"What is your family like? Do you have brothers, sisters; are you closer to them or your parents? How did you grow up?" Ron asked, his eyes shining as he leaned closer to hear my responses. It was as if he'd never heard of someone else's family before.

"No other kids in my family, unfortunately. I'm the only child of only children. Both of my parents were born to older couples, so my grandparents are dead," I said, and his face fell. "What about you?"

"I thought I was learning about you, darling," Ron chuckled. I blushed at the endearment and stifled the urge to smack him for the impudence. Instead, I laughed along with him.

"As the Americans say, 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'; I told you something, so now you should tell me something," I laughed; something sparked in his eyes as I mentioned the Americans. He must never have traveled outside the UK.

"Fine, you little minx," he said, and I blushed even harder. "I had seven brothers and one sister. My seven brothers were older, my sister was younger. My parents died when I was young. After they died, the two brothers closest in age to me raised me and my sister. It wasn't long before they left as well, and I raised Gin on my own."

"Had seven brothers and one sister? Did you have a falling out? Surely things were hard after your parents died, but that is the kind of thing that should have brought you closer together, not torn you apart. Do you ever try to contact them, get back in touch, repair your broken ties?" Ron's eyes had clouded over with an emotion I couldn't quite name, and suddenly I wanted to right the world so he'd never look like that again.

Ron's eyes flared at my suggestions, and I found myself pinned down into my chair. He was leaning over me, leaning into me, and I was afraid. He was like a wolf, hunting down his first meal in weeks. I closed my eyes, but suddenly I felt strength inside me, like the first time I met Pia and the others. I forced my eyes open and glared right back at him. If he wanted a fight, he was going to get one. I focused my telepathy and waited for him to strike first.

He leaned down even closer, and I thought he was going to snarl or growl, but he pressed his lips to mine and probed softly with his tongue, softly at first, but as I resisted, he became more insistent, pushing harder until I gasped with the force of his mouth on mine. He seized the opening and pushed his tongue into my mouth, searching out my tongue. He wrestled me for a while, and soon I was giving as good as he was. Rain began to pour outside, perfect Ireland weather, and as thunder was beginning to strike, he started to pull his mouth from my own. In annoyance, I nipped his tongue with my small front teeth.

"Ah, my little minx bites, does she?" he breathed in his sexy brogue. He stood away from me, leaving me to rearrange my casual robes. I turned to allow him to do the same, but when I turned back to him, he was standing at the window, having done nothing to hide his condition, staring out into the brightly lit night, his rather large erection straining against the thin fabric of his trousers.

I frowned at him, then turned my attention to my bag, still high on the shelf where'd he'd put it. I turned my frown to my bag, and carefully brought it down to my waiting arms.

"I don't think I'll bother you anymore, Ronald what is your last name?" my curiosity got the better of me, and now I couldn't just leave in a huff. My exit was screwed. I was pissed, though.

"I used to be called Ronald, son of Artur. He died, and I just became Ronald. And you can't leave, not now at least. I hope you don't have to work tomorrow, because I doubt you'll be able to get out then, either."

"Whatever do you mean?" I trotted over to the window and looked out to where Ron was looking. I sagged when I saw what he meant: I'd not taken my broom to get to the castle; I'd gotten a ride to a place near the castle, then walked the rest of the way. There was no road where there had been one before, it had been washed away in the downpour. "The road's out," I said lamely.

"You'll have to stay here tonight. I've no broom for you to use, and you can't cross a road under water. Even if you could get to the place where you were dropped off, the other roads are surely under water.

I glared at him hotly. "You're a weasel, you know that? You probably knew that it was going to rain when you saw me sleeping and when you kissed me. You didn't kick me out because you wanted to trap me here with you! You're more than a weasel you're the Weasel King!"

Ron's pov

I tried not to laugh when she got mad at me. Really, you must believe me, I tried. But her chest heaved, and I already knew that she was made for me. All the years, the few women I'd had, they all fell away when I kissed her. Add that to the way her eyes sparked when she got mad, and I had to laugh.

"That's right, love, I'm the Weasel King. Ron Weasley, that's me," I smiled, looking into her eyes. That would work as a surname. I would add myself to the wizard and muggle registries as Ron Weasley, and make my life. I had my soul within my reach, but I had to have her love before I took back my soul. She would be inexplicably linked to me forever, and I was already in love with her. She would love me, be in love with me. I would settle for nothing less. I put some force behind my words, and her eyes glazed over for a moment.

"Weasley. What a simple last name. I can't believe I forgot it so quickly. Usually I'm good with names just don't ask me to match them all up with the right people!" Hermione laughed, a great belly laugh, and I felt her begin to soften towards me. The kiss had told me much, but I needed her to tell me the rest. "Is there a room I can stay in? I heard the place is haunted will the ghosts bother me?"

The firebrand was playing with me! Her eyes danced, and I wondered if I had put too much behind my words earlier. I smiled at her and barely contained myself. I wanted her, wanted to kiss her clothes off and bury myself in her. But I had to wait, feel her out, make sure she was ready for what I was.

The last thought sobered me. In the last few centuries, Harold and I had taken on some abilities that could be frightening, especially to a bed-mate: we could change our shapes, becoming wolf-like creatures, and as such, we had different urges with women and could not always control the beast when we were with women. At least, I couldn't. Harold had not been with any woman, not since Gin. She was his one and only. I turned to Hermione and grinned evilly.

"I don't think it's the ghosts you should be worried about."


	7. Getting to Know All About You

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 7: … Getting to Know All About You**

Hermione's pov

For some reason, once I blew up at Ron, I felt much better. I started to relax, and I looked, really looked, at the castle I would have to stay in. It was a beautiful room we were standing in, full of books and rather old works of art. I felt my anger under the surface but strangely it didn't bother me. I was annoyed and I shifted my weight as Ron continued to scrutinize me.

I wanted to open my mouth and tell him off, but my stomach growled and cut me off. I rubbed it absently and managed to glare at Ron as he laughed at me.

"Hungry, love?" he asked me, using the endearment that I had been unwittingly waiting for. I shot my eyes up to meet his and dropped them quickly to my feet.

"Yes, I am hungry, as a matter of fact. Don't call me 'love', Ronald," I said as I dragged my face back to his gaze. His face darkened with what anyone else would call desire. I saw it for what it was: rage.

"Don't call me 'Ronald', Hermione. I think we've established that what is between us calls for more intimate forms of address. Call me Ronald again, and I won't warn you beforehand," he growled at me.

"Warn me of what?"

"This," Ron charged me, pushing me back against the table again, his tongue hard and relentless against my lips until I opened to his thrusts. He pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I bit him. Hard.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! You bit me! You drew blood!" Ron pulled back suddenly, his eyes growing empty as he backed away from me. His arms dropped to his sides, away from my body and back to his. He looked hurt as he turned his back on me and fled the room. I hesitated for a second and when I entered the hall from the study, he was gone.

Ron's pov

Hermione was surprised when I broke the kiss and ran from her, but I had to. She drew my blood, and even though it was my own blood, I felt the hunger rising. Threatening to take my being over and turn me. My back was rippling as the bones contorted and the muscles twisted around, rearranging my appearance.

Soon, I could no longer run on my own two feet. I fell forward, turning my gait to the four-footed variety. Fur burst forth on my chest on back, and the moon peered through the clouds and storms to rain its light down on me.

In this form, the one I preferred to battle in, I was a rather large wolf. However, I knew from Harold's descriptions that my fur was red like my hair and my eyes remained blue, but they seemed to glow from my face. I howled at the moon, an open invitation to the other predators in the area. For a moment I thought I heard another wolf not unlike me answer back. I howled once more, but heard nothing but an echo. I sat on my haunches and bayed at the moon for a while before it occurred to me that what I had told Hermione earlier was still true: the roads were washed out, thanks to the storms still raging.

I had to hunt, and I had to get some food into Hermione as well. I ran into the woods and quickly found my prey. A small rabbit sacrificed its life for me to continue. Sad thing, the food chain. But I was bigger, and I had Hermione well within my grasp.

I had found her! She was lovely, she held my soul, and she was a firebrand. In short, she was perfect. And I had to provide for her.

Revitalized, I loped back to the castle, breathing deeply and laughing a wolf's laugh. I saw her back at the window that belonged to the room I slept in, when I had slept during the night. I growled absently, and her face appeared at the window. I ducked around the side of the castle. I trotted under an awning and shook thoroughly. If you don't shake all the water off, you're soaked when you change back. I reared up on my hind legs as I pushed my human form over my lupine form and crept inside silently. I grabbed the clothes I kept by the door and slipped them onto my naked form. That's something else that has to be kept in mind: when you change, your clothes are by and large destroyed. Always change back where you can get something to cover yourself quickly, especially in winter or during a storm.

I heard Hermione crashing around upstairs and turned my attention to providing for her. I needed no wand to conjure food for her. I created all sorts of foods, filling the refrigerator and cupboards. She'd be here for a while and I would rather not have to make food again, not until she and I were bound and wed.

I finished not too quickly as Hermione bounded into the kitchen. I turned to smile at her as she took in the sight of a fully-stocked kitchen.

"Oh, Ron, I am absolutely starving! Aren't you?" she asked me, eyes glowing. She entered the kitchen and came to stand next to me, almost touching, but not quite.

"I could eat. What would you like, love?" I asked her softly as I studied her. She seemed to be so grounded, I wondered if she would even bat an eye when I explained the situation to her. I wasn't going to test that theory tonight, however.

"Eggs, mashers, meat. What are you in the mood for?" Hermione wandered over to the refrigerator and pulled the door open. She rustled things around in the fridge and came up with a pack of eggs and a package of hamburger. "Do you have potatoes in the pantry? Good. Grab those and start peeling. Peel half that bag, then slice them into thin pieces and put them in the fry pan with some oil while I get the eggs and meat ready. Do you like scrambled eggs? I hope so; I don't make them any other way."

I don't know how, but I was all set to make a meal for her, and she showed up and took over. She gave me my orders and I followed them to the letter. She walked over to the counter opposite the one I was working at, and silence reigned.

Finally, Hermione sighed and glared at me once more.

"What?"

"Don't you have a radio or something in here? Anything?"

I stared blankly at her before the question registered. "No, sorry, 'Mione."

She put her knife down and stomped out of the room. I heard her footsteps go up the stairs, then in the study, then coming back down as she returned to the kitchen with some apparatus from her bag. She cleared some of the things from her counter and pulled out a small, white, kidney bean-shaped thing and some speakers. I knew what those were, but the rest escaped me.

"What's that, 'Mione?" I asked as he puttered around with the things. Suddenly, music poured out of the speakers and filled the kitchen.

"This," she said, picking up the small white thing, "is a called an mp3 player. It is a Sony Bean; it holds music in mp3 or other formats so that I can carry a lot with me without carrying a lot of other things."

I looked at the speakers and back to her. She smiled and had the grace to blush a little bit.

"Most of the time, I only have to carry the Bean and my headphones. I don't know why I brought the speakers with me today, but I'm glad I did. I can't live without my music."

"What music do you listen to?" I liked the music coming from the speakers, but I wanted to hear her voice instead.

"I usually listen to American bands and singers. Some of the stuff is international, but I have a real weakness for Grieg and Wagner. What do you like to listen to?"

"Anything, really."

"So. You'll listen to anything?" Hermione grinned evilly. She hit a button on her mp3 player, and a strange beat filled the air. She started to swing her hips around as the music began to take shape. She waggled her bum at me, and as I caught her eye, I could swear she winked at me.

I know a challenge when I see one, so I grabbed her and started to dance with her, letting the passionate Latin beat take us both over, bringing my beast to the edge and holding him there.

Hermione's pov

I don't know what I was thinking, putting Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" on. I know that the song always takes me over, makes me dance. But lately, it has been stroking my powers, helping them to grow.

That song along with every thing else in my life that evoked any emotion.

I started dancing and Ron growled a low, long growl, very animalistic, and very sexy. It wasn't too long before he joined me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close, grinding himself into me. The music had ensnared him, too. I opened my mouth to sing along with the words, but his mouth took mine over. He kissed me softly at first, then he crushed his mouth over mine. He forced his tongue into my mouth, playing with my tongue until I played back. I took a breath and pushed my tongue into his mouth, and he nipped my tongue. That little bit of pain, no more than a pinch, really, but it was enough to break the spell of the song as it ended and switched to another song.

Queen's "It's Late". Go figure.

"Ron, how about some food?" I said shakily as I pulled my arm across my face, wiping the remains of our kiss from my lips. Ron grabbed my arm, his eyes glowing blue at me.

"Don't ever do that, Hermione. Ever," he growled, not letting my arm go.

"Do what, Ronald?" I was scared, and it was beginning to come through in my voice.

"Don't ever wipe my kisses away. Don't wipe me away. Now, what do we do next for our meal?"

"Did you peel the potatoes yet?"

Ron looked a little sheepish. "No. Got busy."

"Peel while I brown the meat and scramble the eggs. Hmm…," I walked back to the refrigerator and pulled the door open, rummaging around until I found some cheddar cheese. Now I was set.

As Ron peeled the potatoes and set them frying, I broke and scrambled the eggs. I set them back on a warmer while I browned the meat and then I plated the eggs and folded the meat into them. The potatoes smelled wonderful; Ron must have added some spice to them. I held the plates out while he spooned the potatoes onto them, next to the eggs. I slathered butter onto my food, leaving Ron to do what he liked to his own. I carried my plate to the small table and waited for Ron. He came and sat with me, but he didn't pick up his fork. I had already started eating, but I put my fork down and regarded him just sitting there.

"You don't pray before a meal, do you? Have I done something?" I asked quietly. I didn't want to upset him, but I was hungry.

"I don't pray, Hermione. I just don't pray."


	8. Don't Run Away

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 8: Don't Run Away**

Ron's pov

"I don't pray, Hermione. I just don't pray."

As the words slipped out of my mouth, I knew that Hermione would want an explanation. An explanation I wasn't ready to give her. She opened her mouth to say something, and seemed to think the better of it and closed her mouth without saying a thing. I smiled wanly and looked down at the food on my plate. Now or never, and I dug in.

"Do you like it, Ron?" Hermione asked, eyeing my quickly emptying plate. I hadn't actually eaten food in a very long time, and my stomach would soon be revolting on me, but I wouldn't let her know it right now. I'd have to take care to get my body used to food again. Blood and barely dead game obviously were not all I needed. Hermione was stilling looking at me, and a certain part of my body chose to tell me exactly what he needed. I shifted in my seat, leaned closer to her, and replied as silkily as I could muster.

"The food or the company, love?" my voice came out huskier than it should have, and I suddenly felt the urge to blush as if I'd never had any experience with women.

"Take your pick," she replied saucily, and then I did blush. Hermione blushed and broke the odd spell. We went back to our meal, with Hermione talking about the things she'd gleaned from my not so recently acquired library.

"Oh, really? I'd never noticed," I said mildly, for what seemed like the twentieth time, when Hermione put her fork down and looked right in my eyes.

"Ron, what do you do? This place is lovely, and the kitchen is well-stocked, but how do you keep all this up?" Hermione picked up both her plate and mine and walked them to the sink; the kitchen was well-stocked and up-to-date, but I could see where her suspicion was coming from.

"There is money in this estate, from the crops grown on the rather expansive lands. The estate is much larger than most people realize. In fact, it covers most of the county. On top of that, I do offer protection, for a pittance, really, to the people who live on the grounds and elsewhere in the county," I gave one of the easier explanations. What was I going to tell her, I'd gathered wealth over one hundred plus lifetimes, from pillaging the villages of the children on Morrígan? I don't think so; not quite yet. I followed Hermione to the sink and turned the water on so it could get warm.

"All the money needed to support you and this mansion comes from such mundane pursuits? How disappointing. I thought you'd tell me that you were an international spy, or some time-traveling warrior here to save the Earth or destroy it!" she laughed, a silvery little laugh that made my breath catch. I leaned forward, but before I could kiss her, she kissed me. It was a light kiss, but she still pressed her tongue against my lips, pushing past them to wrestle my tongue. When she seemed to tire, I pulled back gently, still kissing and nibbling. She sighed and leaned against me. I pulled my mouth fully from hers and she sagged against me, unconscious.

I lifted her featherweight body and left the kitchen, sighing as I fought my own body. My beastly self wanted to wake Hermione roughly, with my length pressed upon her, but I knew that she deserved better. She deserved love, and that was what she'd get.

But if I don't have her soon, I may explode.

Hermione's pov

I awoke late that morning, to the sound of rain pounding outside the window of the high tower room I found myself in. The bed was a monstrous four poster with dark forest green linens. I was still in my clothes from the day before, but a small chest of drawers held an array of clothing in my size.

I threw back the coverlet and sheet and peeled myself off of the bed. I grabbed a soft green sweater out of one drawer and a soft gray wool skirt out of another. I stood and turned to the door of the room's bathroom when I realized that I needed underthings. I trotted back to the chest of drawers, berating myself for thinking that there would be the undergarments that I needed, like magic.

I reached into the topmost drawer and

No shit. Lacy garments galore. Bras and panties and hnh. Plenty of things not meant to be worn but for the pleasure of someone else. I picked up a shimmery blue thing that matched Ron's eyes perfectly. I laughed as I imagined his reaction if I wore it down to breakfast.

I sighed as I pulled on some of the least provocative panties and a cream-colored bra. He can dream on, if you know what I mean. Speaking of dreaming, I had the most interesting one last night heh, no need to go there, then. Much better to think about what to wear for the day. I went to the window to see if the weather had changed, gotten any better and no. Still dreary and wet and without any way for me to get back to civilization, so to speak. That said, I pulled out a beige cashmere sweater and a pair of sturdy looking jeans. I slipped thick beige wool socks on my feet and searched out some slippers. I found a pair of buttery soft moccasins and slid them on my feet before I ventured down to the kitchen that was the scene of yesterday's escapades.

I headed down to the kitchen to get some food, keeping an eye out for Ron. I didn't see him as I made my way downstairs, and by the time I got to the kitchen, I was curious enough to go looking for him. He wasn't in the kitchen, so I went to the study where he found me yesterday. He wasn't in the study, so I checked other rooms, and there was no sign of him anywhere. I went back towards the kitchen, sure he would show up at some point, when I saw a door I hadn't noticed before. The door didn't fit into my memory of the outside of the castle, even though it seemed to be on an exterior wall. I knocked on the door, and when I didn't hear anything thing, I tried the knob. It moved slightly, a rusty type of movement, but something stopped it before I could actually open the door. I pushed against the door and it didn't budge, so I leaned my full weight against it to no avail. I wiggled the knob again, and I felt the locking mechanism. It was an old-fashioned pin-and-bolt.

"Gotcha," I whispered, recalling pictures I had studied of the same type of lock. I mentally calculated the age of the castle and compared it to what the books said:

Typically, castles of the pre-Edwardian era used somewhat simple if involved locking mechanisms, consisting of similar pins and barrels arranged in one of four arrays: ascending, descending, step-graduated, or toothed.

I pushed my mind against the pins, trying first the ascending order, starting from the first set and trying the next one in a counter-clockwise order. That didn't work, so I tried a descending, or clockwise order. No luck there, and I was starting to sweat. If Ron found me trying to break into what turned out to be, say, an extra pantry, my face would be red. I suppose I should have stopped when that thought reached my mind, but something inside me stirred, and spurred me on. My chest began to get that familiar heavy feeling, and I decided to go for it. I guessed on the toothed pin and barrel array, and my luck held out! The door creaked open to reveal a short, ancient ladder.

I climbed down the ladder, which turned out to have been made of stone, into a small entryway that led to a stairway that would lead me back under the castle.

"All in or all out, 'Mione, girl," I said to myself. I pushed myself to follow the hall to its end, where I was greeted by another locked door, a much newer one. I looked at the door and wished I'd eaten when I had the chance. If I went back, I'd never get this far again. I took a deep breath and braced myself for another complicated lock when I put my hand on the knob and it open with barely a touch.

I pushed the door slightly and poked my head into the chamber it revealed.

And gasped.

Ron's pov

I had barely gone to rest when I felt Hermione rouse. She should have slept all day, considering the amount of energy I accidentally took from her during our last kiss. I didn't allow myself to go to the level of unconsciousness I was accustomed to, once I realized why I felt so revitalized. I wanted to know if she woke up and needed me, or if the llyr chose to attack.

I don't usually sleep like the undead, appearing dead to mortals, but I am usually so deeply asleep that it would take a force of nature to wake me. Perhaps this change in my sleep had to do with Hermione and my soul coming to me, I'll have to ask Scáthach. Whatever the explanation, I heard Hermione moving around in the castle. I felt her looking for me, and I felt the growing worry as she looked with no avail. I waited for her to find my hidden door. Not so much hidden as encouraged to appear unworthy of notice to people, to ell the truth. One of my cleverest safeguards, actually, and somewhat of a test for Hermione. I began to truly wake when I felt her use her talents on the lock, a pitifully simple task to measure her stamina. I heard her footsteps down the ladder and along the hall to me, I heard her mutterances to herself as she rationalized her breaking and entering. By the time she got to the real door of my inner sanctum, I wanted her so badly it hurt, and I wanted to tell her everything. So I opened the door for her.

And she gasped at the sight.

Hermione's pov

I couldn't help myself when I saw Ron and his room in all their glory. His chamber was decorated in rich reds and oranges and browns, yet he had added vibrant blue in places, lending an air of lived-in character to the otherwise well-matched room. The bed was an even bigger version of the four-poster I woke up in that morning. Where my bed was draped in rich greens, his was enrobed in chocolate brown and deep auburn, swirling around his naked body in a scrumptious wrapper.

His naked body. Scrumptious.

"Eeep!" I said, backing up, trying to get out of the room, but the door had closed behind me, so my exit was blocked. My eyes were glued to the bed and Ron's naked, sleeping form. Which was starting to turn towards me.

Ron had been on his back, wrapped in his silky, shiny sheets, but he was starting to stir and roll over to face me. His skin was creamy, with a soft sheen of sweat, probably from the tossing and turning that had led him to become so entangled in said sheets. His muscles, lean and long, were cording and bunching as they, too, woke up. I noticed his face last, probably because his piercing blue eyes were closed. His lips were slightly parted, and I saw the barely imperfect edge of one of his top teeth when his eyes snapped open. The full force of those beautiful, piercing blue eyes was focused on me.

"Breaking and entering, are we, Hermione Granger? What would the Ministry of Magic say about that, especially with you being one of their top researchers, hmm?" Ron drawled, pulling himself into a sitting position. The sheets couldn't keep up, so I got a full view of his morning glory.

"You invited me to stay in your castle, Ronald Weasley. You never mentioned where I shouldn't go," I said hotly. I hoped he'd think that he'd forgotten to lock that top door.

"D'you think I'd forget to lock that top door, or that I would doubt my own habits regarding my security?" he said, looking at my red face.

"Well, now what. You should have changed that lock. It was painfully easy to figure out."

"And it was the pain from the ease that made you take more than fifteen minutes to get the damn thing figured out?"

"If you knew I was trying to get through that door, why didn't you come up and open it, or barricade it against me."

"Because I wanted to see if you could do it, if you had the ability, or if you'd give up, and if you'd lose interest. We've lots to talks about."

"You've lots to say, I bet. And that's all you wanted?"

"I want you."

AN: I know 'mutterances' isn't a word, at least in the dictionary. But anyone who's ever done something like this, or spoken under his or her breath about something knows that word exists, even if only in the guilty's mind. My gift to you. Teehee.

love, ladykyo


	9. The Ties That Bind Me to My Past

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 9: The Chains that Bind Me to My Past…**

Ron's pov

"I want you," I said, and I let my eyes burn full force into her eyes. Her breath quickened, and I hardened in response. I was already hard, but she had that affect on me. I stood and let the sheets fall back to the bed. Hermione sighed as I crept closer to her. I smelled her fear, and her arousal. Her fear made me groan. I leaned my face into her neck and inhaled deeply.

"You smell like fear and sex, my love," I growled. Hermione turned her face farther away from mine, and I laughed. I draped my arms over her shoulders and chuckled. "That happens to be one of my favorite combinations, Hermione. But you needn't worry, not yet. I want to talk to you before I ravish you."

Hermione stiffened, then relaxed and let me lead her to a chair not far form my bed. She stood there looking at the chair before she turned to face me. I motioned for her to sit as I grabbed a robe and pulled it on; I sat on the bed and face Hermione, bracing for the gathering storm.

"What do you think you need to tell me?" Hermione said evenly, looking straight into my eyes. "You're not really an alien or time-traveling warrior, are you?"

"I'm not an alien, nor have I ever traveled through time, at least not in the way you think. I am a warrior, however, and I am much more than I seem," I said, gauging her reaction. "I am about fifteen hundred years old, surely too old for you," I laughed. Hermione paled, and I held my breath.

"Have you been to St. Mungo's recently? I think you need to get yourself checked out. Or maybe you're an escapee," Hermione moved to stand, and I glance at her, using my own telekinesis to keep her seated.

"Listen, I am not crazy. I am a wizard. I have lived for a long time, without my soul, traded in a bargain to Scáthach and the Dôn so I could hunt down the ones who killed my family and avenge them. I can't walk in the sun, regular food can't sustain me, and I've found my soul in you. Hermione, your talents earmarked you for me, from the day you were born. You have talents that match my own, that will only grow as we entwine ourselves; you feel a heaviness in your chest whenever I am near or you are near another with the same cross to bear: the soul of one of the Dôn's warriors. You are my soulmate, Hermione, and while it may take some getting used to, I won't let you go. You will love me, you will grow to love me, and no other man will please you as I will. Even if you were to have another man."

"And I have no choice in the matter? You'll decide for me? What if I already had a lover waiting for me back in London?" Hermione said softly.

"Are you saying that you don't love me, not even a little bit? Then lust will have to do," I growled, rising from my bed to grab Hermione roughly. I crushed my lips over hers, grinding my mouth against hers until she opened her mouth and blood spilled from where her teeth grated against the inside of her mouth. She sighed and relaxed against me, opening her mouth. I thrust her back towards the bed, ripping her sweater and jeans from her body. I pulled back long enough to take in her choice of underwear.

"Cream colored is nice for grannies and mums, not for sexy little women, 'Mione," I growled. I pushed the claws out on my left hand while I held her in my right. I shredded the offending garments. "Blue, black, and red from now on. Perhaps green occasionally. Nothing boring."

I continued to kiss her, up and down, covering her upper body and face from nipple to forehead in my kisses and saliva. I wanted to taste her, everywhere. I kissed and bit from her nipples down to her nest of crisp auburn curls. I parted her hair and kissed her. She tasted so sweet and I plunged my tongue into her.

I was shocked when I encountered resistance. I may have teased about her having no experience, but I was surprised that she seemed to have never, ever had any sort of intruder. I decided to reign in my beast in deference to her inexperience. Using my fingers, I played around her entrance, moistening her and getting her to relax. As soon as she was ready, I slipped my tongue into her and up her canal. With my thumb, I played with her clit while I gave her long, slow licks and flicks of my tongue. Beads of dewy moisture rewarded my efforts. When I deemed she was wet enough, I pulled my tongue from her lips and kissed her mouth as I played my hands lightly up and down her body, stretching out the foreplay until I couldn't bear it anymore. She was moaning and sighing, and I positioned myself at her entrance and began the long, hard push in.

I kept moving until I felt her maidenhead, then I pulled back slightly. I pulled my mouth from hers and looked into her dark, misty brown eyes.

"I love you, my Hermione," I said, crushing my mouth back on hers. I shoved in and up, managing to punch through with one stroke. She tore her mouth from mine and screamed in pleasure. I started slowly, but she felt like a warm, strong silk glove, the kind ladies used to wear out and on rendezvous. Inside her it was wet and warm, and her body pulled on mine, answering every stroke with a push. It felt so good I wanted it to last forever, but all too soon I felt the tightening in my own sac, the almost-forgotten but familiar boiling that meant it wouldn't last much longer.

"Hermione, I can't stop, and I can't pull out. Ah, god, I'm gonna come," I groaned into her neck, bearing down on her as I plunged in one last time, shooting deep inside her.

"Ron, I love you."

Hermione's pov

I passed out after Ron finished. I was exhausted. I thought he was, too, but when I awoke to the familiar feeling of hands on my breast and hips, I knew that he had awakened before me. I turned my head so I could face him, and suddenly he was intent all on me.

"Did you mean it?" Ron said softly.

"Mean what?" I said groggily. I was still trying to wake up, but his hands had an interesting effect on my body. I should be sore, especially with his size, but instead, my body was tightening and loosening and plain old getting ready to go again. "Shouldn't I be sore?"

Ron looked sheepish. "My saliva has a healing effect. I cleaned you up after our tryst."

"If you cleaned me up, what does saliva Oh," I blushed, and I felt the blood rush through my body. I think I wasted quite a few gallons as that realization registered.

"Hermione, did you mean it? Do you love me?"

"Yes, I guess so. But this is all so sudden. I'm young, you at least have the appearance of being so. I have a job, the beginnings of a career, and I have to help my friends," I began, but Ron cut me off with a look.

"You love me. I love you. I've waited lifetimes for you, Hermione. Let's worry about everything else tomorrow, at the next rising," Ron said, moving over me.

Ron reached for my hands, pulling them from my chest and holding them above my head. I felt my nipples bead and I stared at him, pulse pounding.

"What're you doing, Ron?" I whispered huskily. Whatever it was, it was turning me on in a way I wasn't sure I was ready to accept.

"Are you afraid of me, 'Mione?"

"No, never of you, Ron, but I am a little new to this."

"When I do this, your little heart speeds up, like you're afraid. It's very erotic," Ron wrapped my fingers around a crossbar at the head of the huge four-poster. "Hold on to this. If you get scared, let go. Unless you're terrified, hold on. Trust me."

"But"

"Shut your mouth and let me ravish you. You don't want to be tied up for your second time, do you?"

Problem is, the way he said it, I think I did.


	10. Bind Me to You

**Eye For An Eye: Part I: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 10: … Bind Me to You.**

Hermione's pov

I woke up late in the day, and when I did, I was sore. I heard soft snoring next to me, and I lifted my head enough to see Ron's head cradled on my stomach. I dropped my head back down on the silky pillow and thought about what had transpired between the two of us.

Okay, here's what I know, I think: one, I just slept with a man I've known for oh, two days; two I lost my virginity to said man; three, if what he said is true, then he is fifteen some hundred years old and has made a pact with a Celtic god which resulted, in some way to my birth, powers, and the heaviness. But I'm not the only one. What does that say about the rest of my sisterhood?

"Are we all tied to you or others like you, my love?" I asked softly, trying not to actually disturb Ron.

"Ayuview," he murmured into the bottom of my breasts.

"What? Are you awake?" I said, starting to laugh. Ron picked his head up, and his rumpled hair made me melt. I smiled at him, and he gave me a dopey smile right back. I hope I don't look like that. All satisfied, like the cat who got the cream.

"I love you. I love you, Hermione. And I heard you call me 'my love'. Now I've got you, and I'm not letting you go," Ron squeezed tight around my waist, and I thought I saw tears in his eyes briefly.

"Ron, are there others like you? Because if what you say is true, and these powers and that particular heaviness earmarked me for you, then I know where to find the other soulmates. Some of the girls I went to school fit those criteria," I said, sitting up as Ron lifted his weight off of my stomach.

"Hermione, yes, there are others like me, but I don't necessarily know where to find them, and save for one or two of them, I don't even know who they are. Even if I did, you must know that we are not all from the same places or times: I'm a Celt, and Harold, who was like a brother to me, is also a Celt. But Draconus, another one like me, is from the same time but is a Roman. If I could manage to track him down, he would probably not even listen to me. And I wouldn't know which of your friends would hold Draconus's soul; as for Harold, I think his soul was already gone when we bargained with Scáthach. But for right now, let's enjoy being together, and forget about the rest, hmm?" Ron said tiredly.

"I need to get up now, Ron. It's rather late in the day now, and I haven't had anything to eat. You need to eat as well, and I want some time to digest everything," I spoke quietly as I grabbed what was left of my clothing. I looked at the shredded mess and opted for one of Ron's robes. It was bulky for silk, but it was simple and it covered me, and that was all I cared about at that point.

Ron sat up in the bed and watched me as I let myself out of the room. Part of me wanted to stay and cuddle, but I needed time to think, and Ron needed time to figure out what to say to me.

Ron's pov

After she gathered herself into one of my robes, Hermione padded out of the room without looking back at me. Why didn't she stay with me? I would have gone and gotten her food, and we could have spent the rest of the day and the encroaching night in our bed, talking and planning and exploring each other.

I got out of bed and ransacked my drawers and closet for another robe or perhaps some pajamas. Granted, I don't usually wear pajamas, but I don't typically have guests. I assume that Hermione will expect me to be at least partially clothed, and I don't know that she'd appreciate how much I appreciate her right now, if you know what I mean.

I gathered some clothing and hit the shower, wondering about how I would talk to her about all these things. I had already told her about the main thread of this drama: my soul for relative immortality and the ability to avenge my family and people. I didn't want to talk about the other men fooled by Scáthach and the Dôn right away, even though her friends could hold their souls. I had Morrígan and the children of Llyr to worry about, and with the arrival of my soul and Hermione, I had a hell of a lot more to worry about, a hell of a lot more to lose. Hermione would demand to fight alongside me and whomever else I could find to help.

"Harold, you old coot, where are you? I may have found Gin, and you're nowhere to be found. I need you back here, and we need to find Draconus and the others," I said to myself, aloud as I thought it as well.

No surprise there, brother. You're thinking awfully loud, aren't you? I'm on the continent; I've been tracking Draco for a while. He hasn't been called Draconus for a long time, and when we do find him, he'll insist on teaching you that. By the way, the other girls your Hermione spoke of are the key. I just don't know how to pinpoint who's for whom, and I don't know how to actually retrieve the souls. We'll have to put our heads together and perhaps make a trip to the Isle of Skye and ask Scáthach. Harold's voice floated to my mind.

"We can talk! Where are you? How can we do this? Why haven't you contacted me before!" I yelled, looking wildly around the room for a person not even on the island.

Quiet, man. No need for you to speak, just think at my voice. If you knew where I was, I'd tell you to think in my direction. I'm surprised Hermione hasn't mentioned this trick already. I caught communication between two girls I imagine are some of the ones she mentioned, and that's how I picked up the trick. You might want to talk to her and get a full view of her and her friends talents, as it were. I don't think she's told you all she knows.

I'll speak to her. If she wants answers, so do I.

If you want my advice.

I don't, Harold, but thanks all the same.

My advice is to tell her what she needs to know, answer her questions, and then she'll have no choice but to tell you what she knows. I'll be swinging back up towards you soon. Find Gin for me.

I'll try. It looks like Hermione knows her well, but Gin seems to be fitting herself into this time all too well. And she shouldn't even be alive. Maybe Scáthach

No. I asked Scáthach that day that we left for good. She didn't take Gin. She couldn't.

Fine. When we find her, you ask Gin how she came to be so well preserved, alright?

See you soon Ron. And for all of our sakes, don't think about me when Hermione comes around, alright?

Why?

Some things are left better unshared.

I blushed at that, and I felt Harold leave me, again. I set my face and headed through the door Hermione had left open.

"Here we go, lady love."

Hermione's pov

I felt Ron come up behind me, and I waited for him to do something before I recognized his presence. I was tired and confused, and finding out that my birth was some design of destiny, which I happen to highly disagree with the notion of, made me cranky. If his soul needing a vessel was the only reason behind my birth, he and his Scáthach and Dôn have almost completely invalidated my existence.

Ron moved to put his arms around me, but stopped himself. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Hermione, we still need to talk, and we need to discuss what's hanging between us. It's like the elephant on the couch, as some might say: you can try to ignore it, but it doesn't make the damn thing go away."

"Don't curse at me, Ronald. You don't have that right. You've just told me that only reason I was born was to hold your soul in trust until you could receive it. Don't think that gives you any right over me, or my body for that matter," I said stiffly, and I could feel his eyes on me, burning into my back.

"So, you'll bitch and moan and cry, and blame me because you heard one piece of information that you're going to allow to destroy your self-confidence? Are you unhappy already? Because it seems more like you find this a convenient out in regards to your life and all that goes with it as opposed to life-shattering revelation. And I never told you that was the only reason that you were born. You assumed that because you happen to a particular purpose, that have only one purpose. You're what, twenty-some years old? How the hell do you know what all you're supposed to do you're barely more than a babe, girl! Don't blame your lack of confidence on me. I've had enough of my own over the long centuries," Ron was angry, and it showed. But I could also tell that he was trying to be civil. I think we were about to bring out the worst in each other when a voice broke over our heads.

"Nae listen tae me, lassie an' me boyo: behave, oor Ah'll coom down meself an' knock yer heads taegether, d'you hear me? Hermione, ya know that there's moore tae life than a man, and Ron, ye know that she's needs time. Ah'll leave ye tae it, because ye must figure out da secret tae da souls fer yerselves. Get it taegether, now. Harold'll need ye when he gets back tae ye," and the voice was gone.

I looked at Ron.

"That," he said, "was Scáthach. The one who trained me, who tricked me out of my soul. The soul she lost when Morrígan attacked; Scáthach lost her only daughter, Uathach, in that battle. Lucky for me, my soul was born into your body, keeping you company almost from conception; Uathach won't be coming back. There is more to this than your own feelings, Hermione. I love you, and I know that somewhere you'll find it in yourself to love me, but more than that, I need you and my soul so that we can meet Morrígan and her horde head-on, and wipe that taint from the Isles and this Earth altogether. Even if you couldn't give my soul back to me, if it were locked in you for all time, or if it had fled of its own accord, I'd still love you. I can accept that I was born for you can't you even admit that you love me?"

I wanted to cry that yes, I did love him, and that I knew that he loved me, not just the thought of getting his soul back, but I couldn't speak. Instead, I turned to face him and I smiled.

"Even if I lack confidence?" I laughed as his face broke into a broad smile, his wavy red hair falling into his eyes.

"You are evil. But the kind of evil I can get used to. Let's eat, shall we?" Ron hugged me tenderly, without a hint of sex to it, a pure form of his affection. I blush at how frisky he was earlier, and wiggled tighter into his embrace. "You should still be tired. And hungry. Gods know I am, after your appetite was sated."

Ron and I settled down and ate a civilized meal. As civilized as can be, when your lover conjures savories and sweets out of thin air.

"So, magick could do this, back when you were first learning?" I asked over a mouthful of spicy sausage.

"No, it's a trick I learned during the plague years, when my vassals were too weak or afraid to plough and pick. I wasn't able to devise a way to heal the sickest, though, and many families were torn apart or obliterated by the disease. Believe me, if I could have done these things back then, my village would have picked up and moved every time the Romans got too close, and perhaps my family wouldn't be dead."

"Ginny is your sister, not your cousin, I gather?"

Ron's pov

Trust Hermione to figure it all out. There was no stopping it, I guess: she knew Gin, who looked exactly like me, and I had already told her about a connection. She looked genuinely concerned as she asked me about Gin. I knew then that honesty was the only way to deal with Hermione.

"Yes, Gin is my sister. Harold's wife, if you will, although they never got around to actually having a priest say the words over them. Harold had a bad experience with Druids when he was barely more than a babe, so Gin never pushed the argument, even though she desperately wanted to be his wife in name as well as in every thing else. Harold has been searching for her all these years do you know where she is, Hermione?" I asked. If Hermione knew where Gin was right now, it would greatly reduce my worry and Harold's.

"I myself don't know where she is. I know a few people I can ask, but you must know that the Ginny I know may very well not be the same girl you thought lost all these years. Ginny is a brilliant girl, with a healing touch, but I've seen her use that skill in its reverse," Hermione said softly.

"What do you mean, Hermione? Gin was the healer in our village; she was touched by Brigid. There's no way Gin would hurt someone, especially not with her gifts. You're shaking your head at me. What don't I know?"

"Ginny is working for the Ministry of Magic. She is in the department of Aurors."

"Are Aurors healers?" I asked, dread pooling low in my stomach.

"No, they are the group of wizards responsible for most of our law enforcement. Ginny is working under Nymphadora Tonks, and the two of them are two of the top Aurors at this point in time. In fact, Tonks runs a kind of special ops corps, comprised of Ginny, Persiopeia Black, Andrea MacGarry, Brenna Ianevski, Pansy Parkinson, and me," Hermione said.

"I thought you did research," I said carefully.

"That is more of a ruse than anything else. I report to Tonks, and I have quite a bit of authority over myself and a lot of wizards and witches, as well as a special standing order from Tonks herself, signed by the Minister of Magic. All the research and travel I do is for our special corps. Truth be told, I found out that Tonks felt the heaviness, and that knowledge pressed her into forming our group. We all look like normal witches, with the routine assignments. But we're not."

"Is Gin your healer?" I said hopefully.

"No. She's responsible for the questioning that led to the saving of a number of muggle children from a dark wizard," Hermione said firmly.

"By questioning, you mean torture."

"Yes. She has intricate knowledge of the inside of the human body, and with that knowledge, she is able to effectively get information without loss of life."

"Even though that person should die for what they've done? So the torture is for information but also for punishment?"

"Yes," Hermione whispered, and from her face, I could tell that she had been a part of the interrogations.

"Good for her, and good for you. It will make you stronger for it, and certainly keep you from making the same mistakes as your victims," I laughed, lightening the mood. "Look, that doesn't change a thing. I love Gin, and I love you. I'm just glad we're on the same side. Look on the bright side: now that I know how skilled you lot are, I won't have a leg to stand on to try to keep you from the battles with Morrígan and the Llyr."

"Don't you forget it."


	11. The Long Trip Back

**Eye For An Eye:: Part I:: Ron and Hermione**

**Disclaimer: Characters from the _Harry Potter_ series belong to J.K. Rowling. All original characters belong to ladykyo and the separatesisters.**

**NOTE: This story will jump around from pov to pov, so I'll let you know whose pov is being used at the start of each new section/ where the povs change.**

**ladykyo**

**Chapter 11: The Long Trip Back**

Hermione's pov

I spent the night in Ron's bed, rather our bed, and we talked late into the night. He told me about growing up with Harold and Ginny, and I shared with him my own experiences getting to know Ginny and fighting along side her. I finally fell asleep in his arms, my head on his chest. I could hear his heart beat and I felt my breath fall into rhythm with his.

Ron woke me with a gentle shake not long after I fell asleep, to my reckoning. My eyes felt grainy, and my body felt weak.

"Ron, what's wrong with me?" I asked, forcing my body into a sitting up position.

"Hermione, I think I've been accidentally using your energy to sustain myself. That's how I live now I siphon life energy off of other beings to fill my own reserves. Between the kisses and the sex, I must have drained you without noticing. I'm so sorry, Hermione, but we have to get moving. I can't travel by daylight. I conjured a broom for you to use. I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said, getting out of bed and grabbing clothes for himself and me.

"You're not a vampire, are you?" I asked.

"No, I don't drink blood. At least, I haven't so far. I probably could survive like that, but I've never tried. Why does that matter?"

"It just makes a difference. I would not like the idea of a mouth that had drunk blood kissing me. It would be gross, and very unclean. So, you think you drained me without knowing? How do you typically feed?"

"I change form and hunt an animal, or I hunt an evil mortal. The animals usually end up sacrificing their lives for the better cause, but the mortals are typically so overcome with honesty that they turn themselves in, if only to get away from me. However, I keep tabs on every mortal I feed off of, and any that turn back towards their evil ways pay with their lives. It is a rather simple existence," Ron said flatly.

"Are you an animagus? What do you change into? And you kill things and people? A law unto yourself," I said, searching his face for answers.

"I can change into many things. And don't get on me about killing things that deserve it you and your friends are the ones who are a law unto themselves. You said it yourself: you practically have carte blanche in the wizarding world, you and your friends. And I never kill without a reason; the animals bite it because I need them, the mortals die because the world doesn't. Don't get self-righteous with me, Hermione. How many people have you and your friends killed or tortured?" Ron said, looking directly into my eyes.

He had me there. I wouldn't tell him that, though. But it would appear that he was a metamorphagus, like Brenna and Andrea. I slipped the clothes on he had passed to me. I was silent as I thought on what he had said.

"I guess that the whole not drinking blood is a good enough thing for me right now. Where are we going?"

"You need to track down your companions. Preferably Gin first."

"No can do. We have to go through Tonks or the Sisters."

"The Sisters?"

"Brenna and Andrea. They're Tonks' seconds-in-command, and the oldest of those of us who attended Hogwart's together. They should be in Romania or there-abouts now. Once we get onto the continent, I'll send an owl and we can stay the night at the house of a contact of mine. Do you need a basement to rest in, or will a regular room do?"

"A regular room will do, with blackout curtains. We must travel at night," Ron replied, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room.

We put things aright in the castle and headed out to the greens. Ron handed me a broom and I climbed aboard and kicked off, hovering above the ground while I waited for him to do the same. Instead, Ron put his hands out, palms parallel to the ground and concentrated, and he began to float.

"You can fly?" I asked, incredulous.

"Yes, I can. A neat trick for my years of servitude."

"Can I fly with you? I hate brooms!"

"After all the trouble I went through to get you a broom?"

"Please. You willed it into existence, didn't you? And it probably didn't faze you at all. Let me fly with you!" I was whining, and I didn't care: he could fly without a broom, and I wanted to experience that at least once.

"You're going to continue to bug me about this, aren't you? Alright, come here," Ron said as he held his hand out to me. I lowered myself to the ground and got off the broom as he lowered himself back to the ground as well. It disappeared and I glared at him. Ron just smiled as I took his hand. "Come closer and wrap your arms around me, facing me. Later on, you'll be able to fly with me without being so plastered to me, but for now, best to side with caution."

I stepped into Ron's arms and twined my own around his waist. I closed my eyes as he and I floated above the ground. I felt rather than heard the soft, low rumble of his laughter. I held him tighter as he spoke again.

"Hermione, I promise I won't drop you, I promise. But if I pass out because I can't breathe, we'll both be in for a rude awakening."

"Do you even need to breathe, Mr. Immortal?"

"I don't know the exact limits of my immortality or lack there of. When we separate my soul from your body, it may invalidate the agreement, and I could age just like you. Or I could actually be immortal and everlasting. I don't know, and I used to think that Scáthach just wouldn't tell me. Now I think that not even she knows. That is part of what finding Harold and Gin is about. Outside of that, whether I need to or not, breathing feels right. And I'm sure that you want a living, breathing, hot, hard body holding you, not some immortal stone."

I wriggled against Ron as he started to levitate us over the river that had flooded and left me to his mercies. I laughed. "Something's stone!"

"'Mione, not now, please, I don't think I could take it, and I don't know how it would work in mid-air," Ron smiled and kissed the top of my head. "You may want to close or shield your eyes. I'm going slowly now, so you can get used to flying like this, but shortly I'm going to have to pick up our speed, or we won't get to shelter before the sun rises. When we get moving quickly, the wind could hurt your eyes until you get used to it."

"Will I get a chance to get used to it?" I asked as we lifted higher, gaining little speed as Ron kept his word.

"Yes, Hermione, but please, close your eyes now. Your eyes will hurt if you don't, and at the speed we'll be going at, you may get motion sick. So close your eyes and think things at me. Harold and I can communicate like that now, and I think you and I may be able to. And nothing dirty right now. Just mundane things, alright? I need to concentrate, but your presence will help."

I closed my eyes and I felt the air and wind pick up. I knew that it was us, not the wind, but the most muggle parts of my brain still couldn't accept that it was us traveling that fast without benefit of broom, car, and whatnot. I thought things at Ron, images of my childhood, my years at Hogwart's, my joy at meeting the others, my time with Ginny before she became Andrea and Brenna's favored mercenary. In response, he sent me images and thoughts about Harold and Gin and their youth, images of Harold and Gin when they were joined, and the fistfight he had gotten into with Harold when he refused to marry Gin before a Druid or priest and the resulting hug when Harold explained everything to Ron.

At some point, I fell asleep, or perhaps Ron spelled me, because I opened my eyes and we were in the alleys of Amsterdam. I shook my head and looked at Ron.

"Why are we here?" I asked, still shaking the fog from my brain.

"I sensed someone. Do you know this city?" Ron asked, face worried.

"Yes. I've been here before, on assignment from Tonks. What did you sense?"

"One like me. Belonging to Scáthach and the Don as well; luckily, not one who belongs to Morrígan. He's so close by, but he should be getting inside to the dark; dawn is coming, and it is one of the few things that we fear, after all these years."

"Let's find him," I said, pulling my wand out. "_Lucio!_" I whispered, and an orb of light appeared above us. "Lead the way. The light will only appear to us. A nifty little spell that combines light-giving qualities with a discretion charm. "

"Very nice. Keep behind me as we search him out. I know that this one is not Harold, and probably not Draconus, but other than that, I have no idea who he is."

"He? You know that this one is a guy? How?"

"All those taken were men; men who were left with nothing, so they gave up what they didn't even know they still had for the chance for revenge. Scáthach and the Dôn are tricky like that."

"Have you met the Dôn?"

"Yes, once, briefly; it is not an experience I choose to repeat. This way."

Ron led me out of the alley and down to the right, down a long hill filled with window hung with various-colored curtains. I knew what they all meant, and my breath quickened in anxiety.

"Ron, if he's in this district, we probably don't want to find him. This is the worst part of the city: what Americans politely call the 'Red Light District'. This is all prostitution."

"Trust me, no one in the Dôn's service would risk being found with a prostitute. It was one of the few things he couldn't tolerate. We're so close. He's over there, I think; he's in the park over there!" Ron pointed and moved more quickly than I ever could have. I ran after him and caught up to see him battling a young man to the ground.

"Ron! Ronald, stop! You'll kill him!" I yanked Ron off the man, surprised at my strength. Probably a gift from Ron, I thought.

The man spoke. "Ronald?! The Ronald of the Celtic Roman wars? Are you going to kill me?"

"No, boy, shut your mouth. Trust me, if you go down that easily, you're not worth the effort," Ron sneered, brushing dirt off his cloak.

I glared at Ron and turned my attention to the boy.

"I'm Hermione, and he's Ron; what's your name?"

"Neville. I'm a mite younger than Ronald, here; I was called by Scáthach during the Irish rebellion against England after my family was killed by British soldiers," Neville said, his brogue thick, although not as thick as Ron's.

"So, Ron is 1500 years old, give or take, and you're what, about 300 years old?"

"350 years, lass. How'd you find me, anyways? I thought you and Harold left Scáthach to find your souls and soulmates?"

"I did find her, you dolt!" Ron pointed at me and groaned, scrubbing his hands down his face. "You may be young, but use your eyes, boy. I found my soulmate, and now I'm looking for Harold. Any idea where he is?"

"I'll tell you, and I offer my residence for the interim, but I'm on my way to Ireland. I felt something last time I was there, and hey, if you've found your ladylove"

I had to physically restrain Ron at that point. I smiled at Neville. "That would be fine. Where is your dwelling?"

Neville took us to a modest yet elegant house, with blackout curtains in every room, yet they looked quite normal. Neville explained that he was a very social creature, and with advances that humanity had made, he could claim illness due to the sun and still have a number of visitors and friends. He showed us to a small, comfy room and Ron and I lay down to rest. We still had the bulk of the journey ahead of us, and the night's travel was beginning to wear on us.

I woke a few hours later, when a whisper of sunshine was peeping under the blackout curtain at the window. I climbed out of the bed and pulled the heavy curtain around it. It was a four-poster that had been modified to accommodate the heavy material of a blackout curtain. Ron slept quite soundly, and I heard the soft rumble of activity downstairs. I shut the door behind me and headed downstairs, in the direction of the noises.

When I reached the source of the noise the kitchen I saw what I guess I should have expected: Neville, in a kitchen darkened by blackout curtains yet lit by artificial light, wearing an apron and offering me a seat at his small kitchen table. I sat down and he set a plate of meat and rice down in front of me. I looked up at him and smiled.

"I have very good hearing, and I figured you'd be hungry. Don't worry, I didn't hear anything you wouldn't want me to," Neville added hastily. He sat across from me and picked up his own fork.

"You eat food, too? Not blood, or energy, or life-force?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I prefer food, however, if I have to live on it, I have to eat a lot more. Ergo, I only eat for sustenance in my own home. I feed on life-force when I am with others so as not to disturb them. I gather you would be disturbed if over the course of a full meal, I ate nothing and you ate everything in front of you, yet you felt rundown. You see?"

I laughed. Neville was so matter of fact about the whole thing, as if I would just accept everything he and Ron said as gospel. We both dug in and chatted about life while we ate and waited for Ron to rise.

Neville was really quite shy, according to him, but he was learning to get over it in hopes of finding his own lifemate. I told him about my research, and the secret sisterhood I had with my closest friends, and how we mourned the loss of Luna.

"I'm sorry for your loss. But you'll have to forgive me when I say I'm also sorry for the one whose soul she held. There's no way to get the soul back if she's gone. But one thing I've learned over the years is that nothing is ever absolute. I should be dead many times over, but I'm still here. Don't give up hope. Ever," Neville said firmly, putting his fork down. "On another note, don't let Ron drain your energy so much. It will hamper the continued growth of your power."

"I'm twenty-three years old. I'm a grown witch; I'm not going to gain any more powers. That's just not how things work," I said, amused by his perception of me. He may only be 350 years old, but he was out of touch with how the wizarding community did things.

"Because you're completely normal for a witch. All the extra powers you already have, how your friends exhibit a form of metamorphism that hasn't existed for years all very normal," Neville said dryly.

I had to laugh. "You have a point, Neville. I guess I'm not as normal as I'd like to think. But why would I continue to gather powers?"

"You won't necessarily gain more powers, but rather, more power," Ron said as he entered the kitchen. He was slightly sleep-rumpled and utterly gorgeous. My jaw dropped when he smiled at me, and I mentally slapped myself.

"I think you're having quite the effect on dear Hermione, elder," Neville laughed. I blushed, and I sent a quick thought to Ron.

Don't even think about it. You know I find you highly attractive. Don't make a scene I thought at Ron, and his eyes were swimming in merriment.

Ron sat next to me, digging into my plate. I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling and listened as he and Neville conversed.

"We're heading deeper into the continent, to the south. You can join us if you like," Ron offered, looking at Neville as he waited for an answer.

"No, I'd already made up my mind when you two showed up. I'm going to the isles. I think she's there," Neville said, looking from Ron to me. "I assume you have many friends who are like you?"

"Not too many. And with Luna gone, our number is down one. There are only so many men looking for us, ergo there are only so many women holding those souls. I can put the word out once I can get in touch with my friends," I said apologetically. "Once the rest of the girls know the situation, I'll see what we can come up with."

"You can use this place as long as you like, but I'm leaving when the sun sinks next. Lock up when you leave. I'm going to pack," with that, Neville got up from the table and left, leaving both of us curious.

"Ron, was he dodging our questions?" I asked quietly. In part of my mind, I knew that Neville would hear whatever I said, but old habits die hard, so I still whispered.

"No, he answered what we asked; I think we just weren't asking the right questions. Now that he, Harold, and I all know that there is a limited number of you lot, any hint that one of you is gone, the one who holds that specific soul, is disheartening. He probably just wants to make sure that his soul isn't lost," Ron said, finishing my plate.

I glared at Ron. "That was my breakfast, Ron. I was really hungry, you know."

"Are you that upset because I ate your breakfast, or are you upset because everything is moving so fast? You wanted to come along with me. If you don't want to come with me, let me know, and I'll set you along with Neville as your escort," Ron said slyly, cutting his eyes to me.

"You know better than that. I'm worried about how Gin will take this. She's always conducted herself as if she were alone in the world. Now that both you, her brother, and Harold, her husband are both alive and well will change things for her. I won't make any promises on her behalf because I can't keep them!" I shouted in frustration.

"I'm not asking for promises. I just want you to try. That's all. Don't be angry. Now tuck in, so we can leave when Neville does," Ron said tiredly.

I got up and walked over to the food service, filling my plate again, in case Ron was still hungry. I couldn't see why Ron wanted to leave with Neville. Neville was going in a completely different direction than we were. It would be nice to take a breath before we moved on.

"We need to leave when Neville does because Harold is still moving. We need to catch up with him. On top of that, the Horde is casing this house as we speak. We can move before they can, and we don't want to be here when they arrive," Ron said sternly, reading my thoughts.

"Have you fought them before?" I asked, forking food into my mouth as I spoke. Rude, but efficient.

"Yes. Every battle has been bloody and messy, without any sort of permanent resolution. Morrígan and the Llyr won't be happy until Scáthach, the Dôn, and all the warriors they created are gone. People die in these battles, even the ones like Harold, Neville, Draconus, and me," Ron said bitterly, standing up and walking towards the door that led to the rest of the house.

"Draconus?" I asked carefully.

"Now known as Draco. A Roman taken by Morrígan, without a thought to how we Celts would feel about the thing. He was a member of the regiment that was tracking my village. In fact, he probably killed one of my brothers himself."

"We have to find him, help him find his soul."

"I know. Now finish eating so we can leave."

Ron's pov

I know we have to help that bastard, but does she have to sound like we should be happy about it? I mean, he's a fucking Roman, for hell's sake. They were so resourceful when they were systematically raping, pillaging, and burning our villages why can't he find his soul on his own?

I went up to the room we had shared, but we hadn't brought much with us, and we hadn't made a mess, so there was nothing for me to do there. I turned and headed for the direction from which I heard Neville's movements.

Neville was packing things away into sturdy boxes when I found him. After a box was filled, he concentrated on it and it disappeared. I smiled as I noticed the sweat on his brow before I spoke.

"I was wondering when I'd find someone with the power of translocation. I can conjure out of thin air, but this I haven't seen in ages. Literally," I said, grimacing at my age, even in regards to one like myself. I thought about it, and I had pretty much figured that Harold, Draconus, and I were the oldest left. Neville was ancient to Hermione, but to me, he was a child, not even an adolescent by our standards.

"I know you think I'm a fool, turning you down to go off on my own, searching for my soulmate all by myself. But you know, I'd have to make a life with her myself, so I think its better that I find her on my own," Neville said, looking directly at me.

"No, I know you're a fool. We're all fools, the men who made the deal with Scáthach. I want to help you, Neville. Once Hermione and I speak with the others of her sisterhood, I'll contact you. I know which direction you're heading in, so I'll be able to find you easily. And you've already said you wouldn't give up on hope of finding your soulmate, so I think you'll have some measure of success. We'll be leaving when you leave the Horde is preparing to attack here," I said, helping pack up some of the boxes.

"I didn't even know. I'm glad you showed up. I would've ended up as fodder for them if you hadn't come. I'm sorry that I won't be going with you, though. I've never met the elders before," Neville said with a grin.

"Don't call us that!" I groaned. "We're not old men, you know! We've just been around longer. Show some respect."

"Sure. The sun's down in about an hour. Be ready to leave then. We can head out and cross paths, weaving a few times to throw the Horde off. Then wait a few days before you contact me. Keep me in the loop, brother," Neville said, returning his attention to his packing and translocation.

I nodded and headed back towards the kitchen, where I knew Hermione would be waiting for me.

Hermione's pov

"'Mione, we're leaving in a few hours. Rest, get ready, whatever. We'll be doing a cut-and-back plan, to throw off the Horde. It is a good thing I can fly with you. Your broom wouldn't have been fast enough," Ron said as he entered the kitchen, presumably after speaking with Neville.

I smiled smugly. "Yes, it is a good thing you can fly with me, isn't it? Its such a shame I put up such a fight about the whole thing," I laughed finally, tweaking his nose. I walked past him to our room.

"Are you packing?" Ron asked, suddenly interested.

"No, there's nothing to pack. I was just going to sit chastely in a chair by the window, fearing ravishment by a handsome, redheaded old guy."

"I am not old. And you should start that 'fearing' now, poppet," Ron said as he lunged at me and threw me over his shoulder before I could even blink.

"What is this, 'me Tarzan, you Jane'?"

"Yah, but I'm open to suggestions."


End file.
